Taste Canada Silver Medal Quotes

...one family's most beloved recipes can become a delicious cornerstone as humanity builds a more pluralistic world where the best pieces of every culture can be enjoyed. ~ Karen Anderson

I have met people who insist that humans taste like veal. And one woman from Canada who will swear up and down that people, like most other things, taste a bit like chicken. But she was crazy. And also Canadian. ~ Warren Ellis

If you want to know the value of one year, just ask a student who failed a course.
If you want to know the value of one month, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby.
If you want to know the value of one hour, ask the lovers waiting to meet.
If you want to know the value of one minute, ask the person who just missed the bus.
If you want to know the value of one second, ask the person who just escaped death in a car accident.
And if you want to know the value of one-hundredth of a second, ask the athlete who won a silver medal in the Olympics. ~ Marc Levy

She left the event with gold medals in the all-around, vault, floor and uneven bars. She also nabbed the silver medal on the balance beam. ~ Christine Dzidrums

If you want to understand what a year of life means, ask a student who just flunked his end-of-the-year exams. Or a month of life: speak to a mother who has just given birth to a premature baby and is waiting for him to be taken out of the incubator before she can hold him safe and sound in her arms. Or a week: interview a man who works in a factory or a mine to feed his family. Or a day: ask two people madly in love who are waiting for their next rendezvous. Or an hour: talk to a claustrophobia sufferer stuck in a broken-down elevator. Or a second: look at the expression on the face of a man who has just escaped from a car wreck. Or one-thousandth of a second: ask the athlete who just won the silver medal at the Olympic Games, and not the gold he trained for all his life. Life is magic, Arthur, and I know what I'm saying because since my accident I appreciate the value of every instant. So I beg you, let's make the most of all the seconds that we have left. ~ Marc Levy

We almost began a perfect conversation, F. said as he turned on the six o'clock news. He turned the radio
very loud and began to shout wildly against the voice of the commentator, who was reciting a list of disasters.
Sail on, sail on, O Ship of State, auto accidents, births, Berlin, cures for cancer! Listen, my friend, listen to the
present, the right now, it's all around us, painted like a target, red, white, and blue. Sail into the target like a
dart, a fluke bull's eye in a dirty pub. Empty your memory and listen to the fire around you. Don't forget your
memory, let it exist somewhere precious in all the colors that it needs but somewhere else, hoist your memory
on the Ship of State like a pirate's sail, and aim yourself at the tinkly present. Do you know how to do this?
Do you know how to see the akropolis like the Indians did who never even had one? Fuck a saint, that's how,
find a little saint and fuck her over and over in some pleasant part of heaven, get right into her plastic altar,
dwell in her silver medal, fuck her until she tinkles like a souvenir music box, until the memorial lights go on
for free, find a little saintly faker like Teresa or Catherine Tekakwitha or Lesbia, whom prick never knew but
who lay around all day in a chocolate poem, find one of these quaint impossible cunts and fuck her for your
life, coming all over the sky, fuck her on the moon with a steel hourglass up your hole, get tangled ~ Leonard Cohen

He folded back the hem of her housedress. Peeled the wet underpants from her skin and moved them down over her pale knees and her small feet and then dropped them on the floor. He could hear the voices of the children playing in the tree outside. He gently pushed her thighs apart and saw immediately that the baby had already begun to crown. Her skin was paler than his wife's was, even in midwinter. He gave her his hand to get her through the next contraction, keeping his arm steady as she squeezed. He spread the fingers of the other over her taut belly. Mr. Persichetti wore a silver Saint Christopher's medal around his neck and kept a Sacred Heart scapular in his pocket, but when Mary Keane asked him, catching her breath, "Who's the patron saint of women in labor?" he shrugged. He told her he only knew Saint Dymphna was the patron of the insane. He'd had the ~ Alice McDermott

You may have a silver medal, but I was the top scorer on my second grade team. ~ Leslea Wahl

And what is a gold medal? I'd never really thought about it before Nagano. Now I realize that it's a dream to strive for. I love my silver medal, because it stands for all my dreams and all I'm still capable of fulfilling ~ Michelle Kwan

The moon twangs its silver strings;
The river swoons into town;
The wind beds down in the pines,
Covers itself with stars. ~ George Elliott Clarke

If God awarded us medals, as they do in the Olympics, love would win the gold, joy the silver, and peace the bronze. ~ Charles R. Swindoll

I did five movies in Australia, I did three films in Germany, this is the fourth film I've done here in the UK, I've done a bunch of films in Canada. ~ Joel Silver

Beer has that Olympic medal color," Rot replied, "but does it have a winning taste? I'd hardly call silver a champion flavor. No, I'll stick to my red wine. ~ Jarod Kintz

Yes, the issue was courage. It always had been, even as a kid. Things scared him. He couldn't help it. Noise scared him, dark scared him. Tunnels scared him: the time he almost won the Silver Star for valor. But the real issue was courage. It had nothing to do with the Silver Star...Oh, he would've liked winning it, true, but that wasn't the issue. He would've liked showing the medal to his father, the heavy feel of it, looking his father in the eye to show he had been brave, but even that wasn't the real issue. The real issue was the power of will to defeat fear. A matter of figuring a way to do it. Somehow working his way into that secret chamber of the human heart, where, in tangles, lay the circuitry for all that was possible, the full range of what a man might be. He believed, like Doc Peret, that somewhere inside each man is a biological center for the exercise of courage, a piece of tissue that might be touched and sparked and made to respond, a chemical maybe, or a lone chromosome that when made to fire would produce a blaze of valor that even the biles could not extinguish. A filament, a fuse, that if ignited would release the full energy of what might be. There was a Silver Star twinkling somewhere inside him. ~ Tim O'Brien

I want to meddle with an Olympic medal made of silver metal. I want to alchemize it into gold, and use a mixture of science and mysticism to transform losing into winning. ~ Jarod Kintz

Q: Bigfoot, when my Guinea pig wake up? Parents say he sleeping in box in ground in bakc garden.
Suzie, Ag 9, Toronto, Canada
A: Actually Suzie Guinea pig dead and Bigfoot already dig up and eat. If want back Bigfoot probably poop out bones and fur ni day or so. Very delicious, raise him right, he taste like love. ~ Graham Roumieu

When just a kid, moved back to Canada and looking for a taste of England, I'd picked up a book of my Gram's, a dog-eared romance from the 'sixties about English hospital 'sisters' trying to get it on with the doctors, and thought it very shocking behaviour for nuns. ~ Roberta Pearce

Linda Heavner Gerald received a silver medal for Fiction from FAPA (Florida Authors and Publishers Association) ~ Linda Heavner Gerald

[A]s my breath begins to quiet in the silent woods, I pick up a squeaking, creaking sound, growing steadily louder, that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I snap my head up and overhead, oh my God, here comes three hundred, five hundred, a thousand Canada geese, maybe fifteen hundred, stretching across the sky in a succession of vees. Largest flight I've ever seen. Underlit from reflection off the snow, a skyful of silver arrowheads, bound due north for the summer to come. A skyful of physiology, riding the physics of the air toward the pole. Riches, riches, everywhere, just for the paying of attention. ~ John Jerome

If I could bronze my love, it'd be worthy of a silver medal. ~ Dark Jar Tin Zoo

The apartment was a disaster.
A consummate disaster.
If mess-making were an Olympic sport, this mess would have won the bronze medal, maybe the silver. ~ Penny Reid

A scan of the walls had the grin turning to a wince. Blue ribbons, medals, awards were all neatly framed and displayed.There were photographs of her in formal riding gear flying over jumps, smiling from the back of a horse or standing with her cheek pressed to her mount's neck.
And in a thick frame was an Olympic medal. A silver.
"Well hell.We'll make that two portions of crow," he murmured. ~ Nora Roberts

I looked up and saw my flag. But I didn't hear my anthem. The quotation above from 6 ft 4 inch, 286 pound Silver Medalist Ghaffari (who broke down in tears on the medal stand) summed up his disappointment after an overtime loss to Aleksandr Karelin of Russia. A win would have given Ghaffari not only the Olympic gold medal but also his first victory over Karelin, something of which he has literally dreamed about after 20 meets between the two. Karelin dominates international competition in the sport. ~ Matt Ghaffari

I didn't want people to think of me as someone who wasn't impressed with a silver medal, because obviously that's a huge accomplishment, and I was so happy. It was more about me just being not impressed with falling at the Olympics in my last event. ~ McKayla Maroney

You'll know who you are when you start losing things,' Doris said. ~ Marisa Silver

Good taste cannot supply the place of genius in literature, for the best proof of taste, when there is no genius, would be, not to write at all. ~ Madame De Stael

There's no big budget Canadian movie. Whatever movies are big budget in Canada come from the States. Or also have States financing. Everything's pretty small. ~ Ellen Page

It's so crude' complained her mother, who believed in Good Taste the way Sunday worshipers believed in the Immaculate Conception. She wasn't quite sure what it was but she was sure it was important. ~ Jeanette Winterson

What I love about the Internet and what I try to do on the issues is insist upon the ability to have bad taste if one wants. ~ Andrew Sullivan

The growl that permeated the room was loud enough to rattle the mirror on the wall next to Qhuinn's head - as well as the silver brush set on the bureau and the crystals on the sconces by the door. At first he was sure it was Phury…except then the Brother's brows came down hard and the male looked over his shoulder.

Layla was out of bed and closing in on the pair of them - and holy fucking shit, the look in her eyes was enough to melt paint off a car door: In spite of the fact that she was not well, her fangs were bared, and her fingers were curled into claws…and the icy draft that preceded her made the back of Qhuinn's neck prickle in warning.

That growl was nothing that should have come out of a male…much less a delicate female of Chosen status.

And if anything, her nasty tone of voice was worse: "Let. Him. Go."

She was looking up at Phury as if she were fully prepared to rip the Brother's arms out of their sockets and beat him with the stumps if he didn't do exactly what she said. Pronto ~ J.R. Ward

His eyes looked directly at her, and she felt something jump inside. The eyes, the voice, the face, the silver hair, the easy way he moved his body, old ways, disturbing ways, ways that draw you in. Ways that whisper to you in the final moment before sleep comes, when the barriers have fallen. ~ Robert James Waller

The Marianne Vos Route goes through the seven villages of Aalburg, where I grew up, and celebrates my World and Olympic titles with a number of benches along the route, where you can stop and rest your legs. You'll see the white windmill in Meeuwen and, in Babylonienbroek, a statue of the silver bike I rode to celebrate my Olympic track win. ~ Marianne Vos

Now That I Am in Madrid I Can Think "

I think of you
and the continents brilliant and arid
and the slender heart you are sharing my share of with the American air
as the lungs I have felt sonorously subside slowly greet each morning
and your brown lashes flutter revealing two perfect dawns colored by New York

see a vast bridge stetching to the humbled outskirts with only you
Standing on the edge of the purple like an only tree
and in Toledo the olive groves' soft blue look at the hills with silver
like glasses like an old ladies hair
It's well known that God and I don't get along together
It's just a view of the brass works for me, I don't care about the Moors
seen through you the great works of death, you are greater

you are smiling, you are emptying the world so we can be alone together. ~ Frank O'Hara

Families are like countries. They have their own language and jokes and secrets and assumptions about the right and wrong ways of doing things, and some of that always shows in the children, the way something of
Germany or Australia always shows in a German or an Australian, no matter where they go. Outsiders like it or they don't, they feel at home there or they don't. It's like the taste of cilantro.
~ Roland Merullo

Life wants you to touch, taste and see the grandeur of the world's unfathomable variety. ~ Bryant McGill

To be a scholar of mathematics you must be born with talent, insight, concentration, taste, luck, drive and the ability to visualize and guess. ~ Paul Halmos

The movement to join Washington had a substantial following in the 1850s, centred in Montreal...It faced considerable resistance, though - in part because the United States was having one of its periodic convulsions of nativist politics and a furious debate over the slave trade. In fact, the U.S.-annexation movement would receive its final rebuff not from colonial-minded Canadians but from the Confederate states, who feared that the addition of the British North American colonies to the 31 states would tip the political balance of power away from slavery. ~ Doug Saunders

Gender is a race in which some of the runners compete only for the bronze medal. ~ Yuval Noah Harari

It was when we had come back from Canada and were living in the rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs and Miss Stein and I were still good friends that Miss Stein made the remark about the lost generation. She had some ignition trouble with the old Model T Ford she then drove and the young man who worked in the garage and had served in the last year of the war had not been adept, or perhaps had not broken the priority of other vehicles, in repairing Miss Stein's Ford. Perhaps he had not realized the importance of Miss Stein's vehicle having the right of immediate repair. Anyway he had not been sérieux and had been corrected severely by the patron of the garage after Miss Stein's protest. The patron had said to him, 'You are all a génération perdue.'

'That's what you are. That's what you all are,' Miss Stein said. 'All of you young people who served in the war. You are a lost generation.'

'Really?' I said.

'You are,' she insisted. 'You have no respect for anything. You drink yourselves to death ... ~ Ernest Hemingway

His hands cupped her cheeks, holding her steady so that he might drink in the sight of her. It was too dark to see the exact colors that made her unforgettable face, but Simon knew that her lips were soft and pink, with just a tinge of peach at the corners. He knew that her eyes were made up of dozens of shades of brown, with that one enchanting circle of green constantly daring him to take a closer look, to see if it was really there or just a figment of his imagination.
But the rest - how she would feel, how she would taste - he could only imagine.
And Lord, how he'd been imagining it. Despite his composed demeanor, despite all of his promises to Anthony, he burned for her. When he saw her across a crowded room, his skin grew hot, and when he saw her in his dreams, he went up in flames.
Now - now that he had her in his arms, her breath fast and uneven with desire, her eyes glazed with need she couldn't possibly comprehend - now he thought he might explode.
And so kissing her became a matter of self-preservation. It was simple. If he did not kiss her now, if he did not consume her, he would die. It sounded melodramatic, but at the moment he would have sworn it to be true. The hand of desire twisting around his gut would burst into flame and take him along with it.
He needed her that much. ~ Julia Quinn

Ah! This isn't raw egg at all! The egg white is actually a thinned seawater gelée (jelly)...
... and the yolk is salmon roe firmed in a gelatin!
The salmon roe pop crisply, filling the mouth with a rich saltiness...
... that is wrapped up in the mild smoothness of the gelée!"
"Oh! This looks like it's just a hard-boiled egg...
but the egg white is really a white asparagus mousse! And the yolk is hollandaise sauce made from real egg yolks!
The heavy richness of the hollandaise is perfectly balanced with the mild bitterness of the asparagus for an exquisite flavor!"
"Then what is this? It looks like an egg in its shell...."
"Oh, this?"
"She punctured it!"
"It's a milkshake. You drink it through the straw, like this. Once I removed the inside of the egg, I filled it with a milkshake made with milk, eggs and caramel."
"Mm!It's delicious! Its mellow sweetness and clean aftertaste bring to mind the freshness of an early morning!"
"And that is everything! All together, I call it...
..."The Three-Faces of-an-Egg Breakfast.""
What an utterly surprising dish! Each piece has an exquisite taste completely unlike what you would expect!
On this one plate...
... are miniature representations of...
... the flavors of the ocean, the forest and the earth ~ Yuto Tsukuda

I grew a mustache, and I grew it in my garden. My mustache is organic, and will taste tasty on your mouth. ~ Jarod Kintz

He was loose in his enemy's rear, he was angry, and he was ready to give the bastards a taste of hell on earth. ~ Bernard Cornwell

They were kissing again, carefully at first, learning the shape and texture of each other's lips, testing the sharpness of the teeth behind them.
It's too fast, said a panicky voice in his mind. And too dangerous. He'll drink your juices, taste your brain, crack your soul open like an egg!
Hell, I think I want him to do all that. ~ Poppy Z. Brite

My taste, which may be the opposite of a tolerant taste, is in this case very far from saying Yes indiscriminately: it does not like to say Yes;better to say No, but best of all to say nothing. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

On Sunday morning I put on jeans, changed into a denim dress, then back into jeans again, feeling stupid. I can get into a mood where I annoy myself to no end. At the moment when I got completely fed up and stopped caring, I had on jeans and a white cotton shirt and silver earrings, so that's what I wore. And yes, I'll admit it, nice underwear. ~ Barbara Kingsolver